Happy Birthday Napoleon Solo
by MLaw
Summary: A little fic in honor of Robert Vaughn's birthday, coming up on 11/22. Originally posted for the PicFic Tuesday challenge on section7mfu on Live Journal


His office at headquarters was inundated with cards, flowers, little bags containing rather provocative ladies undergarments accompanied by handwritten invitations and the keys to their apartments.

Illya Kuryakin cleared some of these gifts from his desk and stared at his partner with bemusement. "I thought personal information such as birthdays were supposed to be kept confidential in our dossiers."

"Me too," Napoleon answered as he picked up a letter opener, slicing into a intriguingly scented envelope, and removed and read the enclosed card. He actually blushed at the contents. "But I may have told one of the girls when we were in bed..."

"Honestly Napoleon, I think you could find better pillow talk than to discuss your birthday. And by the looks of all this, I imagine things were not kept as confidential as you had hoped. You know how word spread like wildfire on the rumour mills here at headquarters."

The Russian grabbed a handful of cards, and stared in dismay as a few ladies panties fell out into his lap. He snickered, "So which of these, ummm, lovely ladies will you grace with your presence on the auspicious occasion of your birthday?"

"A very special _one,_ and you of course."

"Napoleon I am not into that sort of..."

"My my, jumping to conclusions aren't we? You should never assume as when you do, you make an ass- out of -u and - me." Solo chuckled. "My Aunt Amy is having a little dinner for me, and you're coming along, _and_ it was at her request."

"Really, your Aunt asked for me? I am flattered."

"And so you should be, it's not just anyone that Amy Solo invites into her home. I'll pick you up at seven."

"And what about all this," Illya gestured to the disarray in their office. " Surely there might be some repercussions since you are not accepting any of these offers." Illya began gathering envelopes and packages up into his arms.

"Just leave them on the sofa, I'll go through it all in a few days..._after _we get back from our big assignment." Napoleon grinned.

"What assignment? I have not been told of any such big assignment."

"Illya..." Napoleon winked at him.

"Ooooh, I understand now. I am going to the commissary and will let it be known that we are leaving for this so-called assignment, and will not be returning immediately."

"There you go chum, you're catching on now." Napoleon grinned.

"So will this be a sort of 'un-birthday' as you did for me?" Illya asked as he walked toward their office door.* " I am somewhat surprised, given you are usually enthusiastic about birthdays."

"I didn't think of that...I guess it will be in part but that's only because of the unusual circumstances.

"Circumstances?"

Napoleon dangled a rather flimsy pair of red panties in the air.

Illya took one look at them and laughed. "Hmm, yes I guess it is a prudent decision on your part. So then, Happy Un-Birthday to you my friend, and I will lock the door after I leave, lest some of your admirers try to invade the office."

"Good idea, and thanks for the wish _tovarisch_."

As a the doors opened, a few women were standing outside, waving cards in their hands."Napoleon! Napoleon!" They called out as Illya prevented them from entering.

"Ladies, please. Mr. Solo and I are preparing for an important assignment and cannot be disturbed. Just leave your cards in the mail room and they will be delivered to him, I am sure. Now off with you." He fluttered his hands at them, shooing them away as he rolled his eyes once again.

He would never really understand this "thing" that his parterr claimed he had when it came to the fairer sex...Napoleon always reminding him, '_when you've got it, you've got it, and I have it.'_

"Yes you do my friend, yes you do," Illya snickered as he turned the corner, heading towards the commissary on his own little mission to save Napoleon Solo from such a _cruel _fate.

He laughed as the elevator doors closed behind him; he had neglected to lock their office door.

.

* ref "The Un-Birthday"


End file.
